


Slowly

by sugarthot



Series: Medusa Radio [2]
Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Drug Use, Needles, Nudity, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-17
Packaged: 2020-09-05 21:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20280439
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarthot/pseuds/sugarthot
Summary: The courier moves into Little Lamplight. They... don't know where to go from there.ew, feelings. now with 48% more gore!





	Slowly

“Here, Rex! Come here!” Six pats their legs enthusiastically, much to Rex’s delight. He bounds over to them, happy barks muffled by the mole rat head he’s carrying in his mouth.

“Aw, did a good boy take the rat’s head? Did ya?” Rex drops the head at Six’s feet, yipping and wiggling his whole body, “thank you! Good boy!”

The blood from the mole rat’s head pools at Six’s feet and sticks to their boots, but they do not acknowledge it. They kneel down to pick up the head and cradle it in their arms as they walk back to their makeshift camp. Rex trots after them, proud of his catch. Six is proud of him, too.

Six shoves the mole rat’s head down a wooden pike, spurting gratuitous amounts of blood on their exposed face and clothed chest. They mount the pike over the fire they’d started a couple hours ago before feeding the flame some old paper. The only reason they’re cooking this rat head is because the bighorner meat they’d gathered is for Little Lamplight, and although Maccready wouldn’t notice or mind Six eating some of their own supply, they prefer eating fresh meat. 

They haven’t noticed they’ve fallen asleep until they feel Rex’s tongue on their cheek, to which they open their eyes and press his eager face away. They yawn and stretch, noting the setting sun and thoroughly cooked rat head staring at them hauntingly. They smile at Rex, who is sitting patiently by their side as they wake. When Six gets to their feet, he begins hopping joyfully.

Six pulls the head off the pike with gloved hands, feeling the burning heat through the thick black leather. They dig the claw-like ends of their gloves into the skin, satisfied at the easy give. Rex paws at Six’s leg impatiently. 

“Okay, okay! Give me a minute, Rexy. Lemme divide the rations.” they pull their only clean kitchen knife from its holster on their calf and begin to cut into the head vigorously until they hit bone. The skull is soft but resilient, so they cut all the meat and muscle off of it until the entire head is practically skinned. The only sinew remaining is on the jaw, which Six rips off with slight difficulty. The jaw now separated, Six snaps all the teeth off until the only thing that remains is clean bone. Next to them, Rex is voraciously tearing into the pile of Meat six had discarded, which is all of it; He only stops briefly when he feels teeth hit his snout, to which he simply growls and keeps eating. 

Six hums as they work on breaking the jaw in half, off-tune and mindless. It’s a made up song, nonsense they generate in their head. It sounds good to them and keeps their vocal cords busy, so they don’t care. They stop when the jaw finally snaps, and they hiss in delight at the sight of marrow. They suck it out, chewing on the soft bone while they scroll through their pip-boy to turn on the radio. Mr. New Vegas’s voice floods their ears, and they smile happily. They move to lay their head on Rex’s side, who acknowledges them briefly with a wet, bloody lick before he continues eating. They chew the bone slowly, occasionally moving it when there isn’t any marrow where their tongue can reach. To keep their hands busy, they play with the reddish skull in their hands, poking at the top teeth before snapping those off as well. They put them in a small pile beside them, and mentally make a note to collect them and the bottom teeth to clean and store them later. They have no practical use or value, but Six likes touching them and moving them around when they’re bored or one of their hands has nothing to do.

When they’ve finished gnawing at the jaw and Rex has eaten as much meat as he can handle, Six sets the skull on a nearby rock and picks up all the teeth to place by their side. They’ll clean them in the morning. Now, Rex walks in a circle before lying with his flesh side toward the fire, and does not protest when Six once again lays their head on his side, feet towards the flames. They both fall asleep to ‘Love Me As Though There Were No Tomorrow’ playing softly on Six's pip-boy.

In the morning, Six is woken by Rex barking into their ear. They shift off of him, and they feel him shoot from the camp like a bullet. They open their eyes to see him peeing behind a boulder, and huff at the interruption of their good sleep. The sun isn’t too high in the sky yet, just peeking over the mountains, so they haven’t lost very much daylight. Rex’s bladder is a reliable alarm clock, so they never worry about oversleeping. They look around as they crack their back, eyes locking with those of the mole rat skull. They cringe inwardly at the sight, but continue stretching as if they hadn’t noticed. They gather the scattered teeth at their side and pour them into the pouch carrying the rest of their collected teeth, groaning at the feeling of dried blood on their face when they yawn. It’s covering the the entire right side, and they can see it falling off in a crusty brown dust from their brow.

The fire had died, probably hours ago, but the heat wasn’t necessary when the sun rose, so they don’t care. Six gathers their shotgun from where they’d stuck it in the dirt the evening before, slinging it onto their back as they stood. They give a long sigh as they bend down to grab their helmet and shove it on. Before they do, though, they give it a long, hard look. When they see their reflection in the goggles, they’re reminded of the eyes of the NCR ranger they’d nabbed it from. The ranger had already been dead when they found their body (probably), and they had shouted in delight when they saw their helmet; their happiness had faded into frustration when they had found they couldn’t pry the damn thing off the ranger’s head, so they pulled out their machete and chopped the ranger’s head clean off. If they hadn’t been dead before Six had found them, they most certainly were when they left. Eventually, they’d found an old abandoned tool shack with a crowbar, and they did more damage than necessary to get the head out. They left the gored head and crowbar on the table, and when they returned a month later, they found both items gone, replaced with a handful of caps and a skinny plastic bag that looked like it didn’t hold very many things efficiently. They’d taken the caps with a song in their heart and no questions in their head.

They brush the dust off the goggles before pulling it onto their head, humming along to the beginning of ‘Lone Star’; they’d left the radio on all night. They kick dust over the remains of the campfire in an attempt to erase any record of them being here, but it’s a half-hearted action; if the makeshift spit didn’t give it away, the skinned mole rat skull definitely would, and they just don’t have the energy to find a pit and bury it. They abandon the act and whistle for Rex. They flinch at their own sound echoing in their ears and mentally slap themself for not turning on the filter on their helmet. After they switch it on, they whistle low and loud, catching Rex’s attention. He finishes his business and sprints over to them, ready to leave. Six pats his back and whistles again, at which Rex begins running to scout ahead. They pull out their shotgun and cock it, strolling leisurely after him. The teeth in their pouch clatter at each movement of their hips. Whether they notice or not, they don’t care.

They reach Little Lamplight in the evening, their journey only hindered by the sight of a pack of deathclaws on the way, which forced them to revise their route and find a way around. As inconvenient as it was, Six knew that one day they would not need to run. One day they’d have a pouch specifically for deathclaw teeth. No matter how chilling the thought, it gives Six confidence.

Maccready is thrilled when Six announces their presence. So thrilled, in fact, he whoops at the sight of them and rewards them with a large, impromptu hug. Six almost, almost, stabs him when they feel his arms wrap around them, but he hadn’t approached from behind(a smart move) so they aren’t as surprised as they might have been. Instead, they go completely still, their mind running at a hundred miles a minute trying to process the situation. Oh, god, when will it end? Why is Maccready so damn boney? What have they done to deserve this? They’re not even breathing. They’re getting cross-eyed from staring at the back of Maccready’s head for so long. Finally they feel his grip loosen. He steps back to grin at them and moves to remove their helmet; before he can, they duck out of his reach and whip out the bag of medical supplies they’d recovered. Anything to get him to stop touching them. He startles, but accepts the bag with renewed joyful surprise. He hadn’t asked for any medicine, but Six had assumed he needed it from the state of the kids they’d seen coughing and groaning when they’d first arrived.

“Oh, shit! Rad-X! This is- oh shit, is this J-Jet?” Maccready doesn’t look as excited as they thought he would. In fact, he looks perplexed. Slightly fearful. “Why did y- is this Psycho?”

“Well, I was thinking since, y’know, you guys aren’t too well guarded, if a problem comes where you need to defend yourselves-”

“This camp is full of children! You expect children to use Psycho?! That would kill them!”

Six grunts and takes the bag from him. They stick their hand in, moving it around, until they grab what they’re looking for. When they pull out a needle of Psycho jet, Maccready steps back. They’re both silent for a minute. Maccready is trying to gauge what they’re thinking despite the mask hiding their face.

“I’ve used it enough times that the effect has lessened for me, so I need to use twice as much if I want to feel the effect. You could say I’m addicted to it. If I go even a day without a single injection, I suffer withdrawals. If I go through withdrawals without taking a shot, I will have seizures. I have been using it since I became a courier, about four years ago. I got shot in the head when I was _eleven._ I have been addicted to Psycho jet since then. My lifespan has decreased by decades. I estimate my body will die within the next ten years.”

Silence.

“Now, tell me something about you.”

Maccready inhales too fast, surprised, and chokes on his saliva. As he doubles over, coughing, he asks meekly, “what?”

“I just told you something personal about myself. So I hope you trust me,” Six drops the chem combo back in the back and closes it, “I’ll sort through the medicine and take out the addictive chems. Rex will deliver the supplies to you if you whistle. I’ll be in your office until I’m done. Thank you for your time, Mayor Maccready.”

With that, Six turns on their heel and leaves. Simple as that. Maccready stands there, dumbfounded, until he processes what they said and recollects himself. His first order of business is to call Rex.

Two hours later, when Maccready returns to his office, he hasn’t forgotten about the courier that sits at his desk. After he’d unloaded the supplies, he’d had to deal with various kids’ problems, ranging from splinters to panic attacks. When he gets back to his room, he is tired. He just wants to be asleep.

“Hello, Maccready. Busy day?” Six has arranged their collected medicine on the table neatly, groups of meds separated by type. On the left side: Rad-X, Stimpaks, Rad-Away, and some things even he doesn’t recognize. On the right, enough various detrimental chems to kill a person (after making them the most extreme being on Earth for three seconds before their internal organs failed). Jet, Psycho, Mentats, Hydra, and numerous combinations of the four. Maccready is impressed by the amount they’d found in less than three days. 

“Yes,” is all he says as he drops into his chair, letting out a long sigh. He’ll want to go to bed soon, but he needs to be sure everyone else is asleep before he is. God, he is getting too old for this. He is actually getting too old for this. It won’t be long until he’s kicked out and a new mayor is chosen.

“Soon, I’ll have to leave.”

Six looks up. Their helmet is still on, but he can practically _feel_ them cock their eyebrow. He wonders if they’d put it back on when he’d come in the office, or if they’d never taken it off.

“Do tell.”

“In Little Lamplight,” Maccready stretches languidly, “Kids are kicked out when they turn sixteen. So, I have about five months left as mayor before a new election is held. I’m- I’m not sure what I’m going to do after I leave. I’ve lived here my whole life, I think. I’ve been mayor for half a decade. I don’t know how I’m going to live… outside.”

Six is quiet. They nod.

“I’m… nervous. To say the least. About living out there, mostly, but also about leaving all these kids. I want them to be okay after I leave. Especially since I’ll probably never see any of them again.”

“How long has Little Lamplight been around?”

“Um… I’m not sure. A few decades, maybe.”

“And there’ve been a bunch of mayors before, right?”

“Yeah…” 

“Then I’m sure almost all of them have felt the same way. Worried about living outside, worried about leaving the kids. But Lamplight’s still going. Decades strong. It will be fine after you leave.”

“I... suppose you’re right.”

They stare at each other for a while, neither speaking. The silence isn’t as awkward as it was the first night. It might even be construed as… comfortable. After a couple minutes of inactivity, Six starts to pile the healthy meds back into the sack. When they’re done, they lean across the desk to Maccready, holding it out to him imposingly. Maccready’s unsure of their sudden change in demeanor, but he assumes it’s… unintentional. He takes the bag of meds, and nods in thanks.

“Do I have a place to sleep?”

Maccready blinks in surprise. He’d almost forgotten.

“Yes and no. We have a little ‘alcove’ in the back of the cave. It’s a bit separated from everyone else, but it has a mattress and a stove, if you get cold and want to start a fire. It’s pretty private.”

Six nods approvingly, “That’ll do just fine. I wasn’t looking forward to sharing a room or bed with a bunch of little kids. And I doubt they’d like Rex too much.” right. Rex. 

“Does he need… special accommodations? Will he hurt the kids? Bite anyone if they get too close?”

“Definitely not! He’s very friendly, he loves kids. The problem is, when people, especially kids, can see someone’s brain, they tend to get a little… uncomfortable around them. He’s a sweetheart, though.”

“I’m sure the kids will warm up to him. Will he sleep with you?”

“Yes.”

“Alright. Uh… I hope you’re comfortable. Will you be staying often, or do you spend a lot of time… outside? Doing things?”

“I’ll probably not spend a lot of time here. I go to New Vegas an awful lot to help my friend Yes Man and see Arcade. And I do a lot of tasks for various people and groups, so I’m always moving around. If I don’t show up for weeks at a time, that’s why.”

“I’m curious as to why you want to have a bed here, then. Not that I don’t appreciate you bringing us supplies. You just seem kind of-”

“Suspicious?” 

“-nomadic.” 

“I like having a lot of groups on my good side. It always helps to have another ally. And it’s always good to have a place to stay if I’m in the area.”

Maccready nods. “Right.”

It’s awkward now. Six isn’t leaving, and Maccready doesn’t have anything else to say. They can probably see the discomfort in his face but do not get up. Eventually, they put their hands up to their head and remove their helmet. Maccready can’t hold back a small gasp.

Their face is covered in dried blood. This close, Maccready can see details he hadn’t had the time or thought to pay attention to before. They have twin scars running over each end of their mouth, contrasting strangely on their thick lips. Their skin is dark brown, slightly discolored in odd places. They have strange imprints above and below their left eye, probably birthmarks. Their eyes are large and grey, but unlike any eyes he’d ever seen; They’re light, which is already off putting with their dark skin tone, and he’s sure that they might seem white with the proper lighting. One iris seems to be a slightly darker shade than the other, hardly noticeable if you aren’t paying too much attention. Their hair is messy and black, as if they’d got each side cut separately. Despite this, it looks kind of… okay. In general, they look… interesting. Unique. Endearing. Definitely hard to forget. Endearing? That’s not the word he wants to use. Anyway, their face is covered in blood, but it doesn’t look like their blood, so his only concern is getting them clean.

“D- if you want to clean yourself or something, there’s… uhh.. I don’t actually know what you could do. I can get a wet washcloth so you can wipe that blood off your face.”

Six seems surprised at his lack of a comment about their appearance, but they nod anyway.

Upstairs, Maccready rinses the washcloth in his sink, which he never uses; he’s surprised it even works, and slightly fearful it might be irradiated. When he doesn’t keel over from exposure, though, he assumes it isn’t and walks back downstairs to find Six fast asleep, right where he left them. He’s surprised they can sleep in a sitting position, but decides that anyone who’s grown up a nomad in the Mojave has probably learned to sleep in any position they can.

He wants to wake them, but fears they may lash out if prodded suddenly. So he crouches behind his desk and throws a pencil at their face. As expected, they sputter awake and wobble violently, hands flung around defensively to protect from an attacker. When they realize they’re in no danger, they pick up the washcloth Maccready had left on the desk, roughly wiping away at the crusty blood on their face. When Maccready stands up, they don’t look surprised.

“Sorry. I’ve been jumped in my sleep more times than not.”

Maccready nods, sitting back down in his rotting armchair.

“So, Mayor Maccready, do you have a first name, or is it just ‘Mayor’? If it is, that’s very convenient.”

Maccready laughs dryly. “No. It’s Robert. Robert Joseph. Most people just call me RJ. ‘Mayor’ sounds way too formal.”

“Right. So what would you like me to call you?”

“You can call me whatever you want. Maccready is fine. RJ is fine. I don’t care.”

“Alright,” Six nods thoughtfully.

“Would you like me to show you to your… cove?”

“Please.” 

It’s just as Maccready had described- small and unimpressive. There’s a- it’s more a cooking pot than a stove- in the middle, old wood sitting under it. A bare moth eaten mattress is stuck beside it, leaving just enough room that it wouldn’t catch fire if the pot was lit. There’s a wooden crate in the corner, upside down, and Six assumes it can be used as a sort of table. They sit on the mattress with exhaustion, emitting a low whistle reflexively. In seconds they can hear Rex’s loud, bounding pawsteps approaching them at a rapid pace. Maccready sits beside them on the mattress just as Rex races into the cove, giddy as all hell. He flops over onto his side at the end of the mattress, panting happily. He’s probably excited about meeting so many kids. In fact, when Maccready was leading them to the alcove, they’d spotted a bunch of kids crouching in a circle, petting something and giggling happily. Six is glad he’s getting along with them.

“So, do you think it’ll work?”

“Hm? Oh yeah, it’s perfect. Thanks. I’m excited to get out of these damn clothes. I’ve been wearing them for a week without taking ‘em off.”

As Six undresses, Maccready stares at the unlit pot, thinking.

“It gets cold at night. Do you want me to light a fire?”

“Oh, yeah. Please.”

Maccready gets up and walks all the way back to his office to get a match. When he returns, Six is lying on the mattress completely naked, absentmindedly petting Rex’s back as they stare at the ceiling. They don’t look up when Maccready enters again, or when he lights the fire. He sits at their feet and stares at the flames.

A few minutes pass before Maccready speaks.

“What should I do?”

It’s quiet, it’s vague, and he’s not even sure Six is still awake, but when he looks over at them their eyes are open and staring right at him.

“Whatever you want.”

The words are full of intent, like they believe it with every fiber of their being. In the reflection of the fire, their eyes are alight, white and piercing. The image of them staring at him next to the flames, having just told him to do whatever he wants, is etched into his mind forever.

He forgets to breathe for a second. They stare at each other for a while, nothing else said, before Maccready inhales, nods, and stands. He leaves without so much as a ‘good night’. Six watches him go, then goes back to staring at the ceiling. They gaze down at Rex, who is snoring peacefully with his head on their stomach. They smile at him, then reach behind their head to their pack and pull out a rolled up blanket. They throw it over themself and Rex before switching on the radio and closing their eyes. They fall asleep to ‘Blue Moon’ playing ever so quietly from their arm.

Two weeks later, Six has been sleeping in Little Lamplight almost every night. Last night they and Maccready had talked for a couple hours in his office, the atmosphere often light and jovial. They’d been peeling potatoes to boil in a stew for some kids who didn’t eat meat. They had gotten to their bed in a daze and passed out. 

In the morning, or whatever time it is they wake up, Rex is gone and their radio is off. The fire’s still going and the alcove smells of burnt hair. They cough violently, blood splattering on the mattress, their body overcome with the shakes. They groan and reach for their pack, only to find it isn’t there. What the hell? The muscles in their arms and neck are starting to spasm, and if they don’t get their Jet injection--

They collapse onto the mattress, face-first, limps convulsing erratically. They can’t breathe through the thick mattress, so they gasp repeatedly with increasing panic as their head becomes numb. They scream, because it’s all they can do.

_“So what did you do before?”_

_Six looks up, confused. Their hand stills on the potato peeler. “Before? Before what?”_

_“Before you were a courier.”_

_Six stares at him, the flickering candle light on Maccready’s face giving him a strange aura. _

_“I don’t know.”_

_Maccready seems surprised. “You don’t know? That’s a decade of your life.”_

_“I was shot in the head. I’d assumed that was a good enough excuse.”_

_“You didn’t… I don’t know, go looking for answers?”_

_Six averts their gaze, staring at the potato peeler in their hands in concentration. They huff. “I was ten. I didn’t… care.”_

_“You were eleven.”_

_“What?”_

_“You said you were ten, but before you told me you were eleven when you got shot.”_

_“I was...” they trail off. They look confused._

_"...Six, I'm s-”_

_“Stop. I just messed up. Besides, it doesn’t really make a difference. I was shot in the head and I forgot who I was before that. It makes sense. I might not’ve even been eleven.”_

_Maccready is quiet. His eyes are in his lap. He had crossed a line. He hastily continues peeling the potatoes in his hands, and Six soon follows. The silence is tense._

“Six! Six! Stop! How do- how do I help you?! What do I do?!” Maccready is pulling them off the mattress, and they’re awake again with the rush of oxygen to their lungs. Their muscles are still spasming, and they can’t understand what they’re seeing. They see shapes (Maccready, pot, fire!, entrance to alcove, Rex) but nothing is going through their head. They’re five miles away, cooking beetles in the midday sun. Beetles. Big beetles, blue beetles, green beetles, irradiated beetles, irradiated sand, don’t eat sand. Can you hold a gun? Of course you can. Have a beetle. Eat a beetle. Squish the beetle. Beeeeeeeeetlessssssss. You need a rock to open the shell. There are wings under there! Be quiet. They’ll hear you. The beetles? No. Who is that? He has a gun! I have a gun. I have a BEETLE! Big beetle.

“SIX!”

“Whazzat,” they slur. Their muscles are still twitching, but the worst of the seizure is over. Maccready’s face is hovering right in front of theirs, but they don’t lash out like they normally would. Especially since he’s whining. Wait, no, that’s Rex, who’s huddled at their side now.

“Aya, Six, are you okay? What the hell happened? You weren’t responding!”

“Mmseizure.” Six bats his face away gently, no venom behind the action, “need my Jet.”

“Psycho jet?”

“Yeah. Couldn’t find my bag. Where izzit.”

“Uh, I think-- yeah, Rex has it. He’s been carrying it around since you woke up.”

Rex perks up at the sound of his name, shifting closer to Six with a whimper. He has Six’s knapsack in his mouth.

“He must be strong. I can’t even pick it up,” Maccready says lightheartedly, “Damn, Six, you really scared me.”

“Whatever. I’m fine. ‘Least I told you about it before. Can you help me? I’d do it myself, but… I’m not very liquid snake right now.”

Maccready nods, but cocks his eyebrow in confusion, “‘Liquid snake’? What’s that mean?”

“I dunno. Read it in a book or something.”

Maccready nods again like that explains anything and moves to lift Six up.

“Whoa, what are you doing? Hit me with the Psycho, ‘Cready.”

Maccready sputters at them, “Hell no! I’m not gonna-- listen, if you wanna mess up your body, that’s your choice, but I’m not taking any part in it.” Six looks pained.

“Please, Maccready. I’ll have another seizure if I don’t get it. I could die this time. I’ll stop after this one, I promise.”

Maccready, who has never heard an addict beg, reluctantly pulls the Psycho jet out of Six’s bag (with some resistance from Rex) and unsheathes the needle. 

“I don’t- where do I put it?”

“My neck.”

“Holy- no!”

“Fine! My shoulder!” when he hesitates they snap; “be quick!”

“Okay, okay!” doing the literal opposite of what they’d just said, he slowly sticks the absurdly long needle into their shoulder, eliciting a long “owwwwww” from them. When he presses down on the syringe, they groan. Their head lolls sideways. For a second he’s scared he’d killed them, but they’re still breathing. Once the syringe is empty, he pulls it out. Blood spills from the fresh puncture immediately and he almost screams. Rex nudges him, and Maccready takes the knapsack from his mouth, searching for a bandage. He only finds a long piece of pink cloth with blood stains on it, but assumes it’s the closest thing he can get to first aid and wraps it around their arm, watching their face closely to see if they’re in pain. He can’t tell.

“‘M fine,” they push his chest weakly, “I just… need a minute. It takes a second to kick in.”

Maccready sits down next to them, though they’d probably expected him to just leave.

“Does it feel good?”

“No.”

“Does it feel… bad?”

“Doesn’t feel awful. Feels normal, I guess.”

Maccready looks at them sideways. Six doesn’t have to make eye contact to know that he’s confused and frustrated. 

“I’ve already told you that if I don’t keep taking it I’ll die.”

“But that doesn’t make any sense!”

“Well, I don’t know how to explain it! If Arcade were here he could probably tell you…”

“Does he know about it?”

“He knew.”

“And he didn’t… help you?”

“Didn’t let him. Besides, we were friends. He didn’t care.” they shift onto their back, pulling the blanket onto their lap.

“Friends are supposed to care about each other.”

“God, Maccready, piss off.”

“Why the hell are you getting angry at me?!”

_Why are you being so damn friendly? I work for you. We’re not friends. I kill shit and give you corpses and you let me sleep in your cave on a shitty mattress. That’s it. The only reason I’m here is to get rid of junk I don’t need. If I wanted to I could kill your whole town. I could wipe this place off the fucking map and no one would be able to stop me, least of all you, because I can. I have that ability. So If you don’t leave me the fuck alone, I will rip out your throat with my bare teeth,_ Six thinks. Instead, they say, “it’s the Jet. Please just… leave.”

He does.

With a glance at their pip-boy, they realize it’s only been two hours since they fell asleep. They groan angrily; they won’t get any sleep now that the Jet’s in their bloodstream. So they stand, pull on their clothes and helmet, shoulder their bag and head towards the entrance of Little Lamplight. They need to think, and they can’t do that here. Maccready, talking to a group of kids with knives, watches them go. He says nothing but hopes they’ll be alright, though he knows hope helps no one.

**Author's Note:**

> written in febuary. please let me know if there are spelling errors.


End file.
